


salt and iron and impudence

by Poose, seven_hells (Poose)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Plot What Plot, Pseudo-Incest, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/Poose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/seven_hells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kinkmeme prompt: Jon and Robb top the hell out of Theon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	salt and iron and impudence

"Oh," Jon breathes out, "He likes that."

"What?" Robb asks, rolling his hips languidly. "What, _this_?" accompanied by a particularly brutal thrust that sends Theon jolting forward onto Jon.

It was shameful, really, the way he let them use him like this. Most nights he shied away from them, his not-brothers, when they curled up together under the pile of pelts and skins in the straw bed they all shared. Jon Snow's bastard blood was blood nonetheless.  And yet the gods of Westeros frowned on incest, and much more, besides: brother together with half-brother fit into no cosmology he knew of. Not even the Targaryens would suffer such an abomination. In the cold darkness before falling asleep Theon could hear them, together, touching themselves -- never one another, never ever that -- under the furs. His cock responded; it betrayed him as it always did, but he did not join in.

On nights such as this one, however, when he was overdrunk on Dornish wine, itching for it, craving belonging in any way he could find, then it was enough to be the bridge of willing flesh between them. A barrier to keep them apart, to prevent what they could not do to one another. The fire flickered low: Theon could just see it out of the corner of his eye before wrenching them shut to take in more of Jon's length. 

"Gods, yes," Jon says, slipping his hand to curve around Theon's head, to hold him there until he chokes. Slaver dribbles off his chin, thick with phlegm, when Jon finally releases him. Theon coughs, letting Jon's fat cock slip wetly from his mouth. He heaves great breaths against Jon's damp upper thigh, his eyes watering with the burn. Jon strokes his head almost fondly, scratching at his scalp, and Robb stills his pace.

"Fuck," Theon blurts out as Robb pushes all the way in, bottoms out in him, and then _stops_. His dick twitches by reflex, but when he moves to catch it in his palm, Robb pulls the hand towards him, pinning it to the small of Theon's back. The angle sends biting pain down his shoulder, but it is nothing compared to the ache in his cock, hard as iron and bobbing uselessly beneath him.

"Who said you could touch your cock, eh, Greyjoy?" he laughs. Theon squirms, trying for more pressure, for the thick head of Robb's cock to hit that spot inside that makes his head swim, but Robb is not forthcoming. "Pathetic," Jon declares, running two fingers under Theon's chin and urging him to look up, into those liquid-dark eyes gone black with heat. "Isn't he?" he tosses off, to Robb. "He's only fit to be fucked," Robb agrees, and at that Theon's cock twitches _hard_ , his left leg shudders and he hardly even knows what he is doing, swinging his body back and forth.

Impaled on Robb's cock, fucking himself subtly, as they laugh to one another about how pathetic he is, how desperate to be fucked. And he is, gods, _is he_. But Theon won't cow that easily. He wants to take them to the brink with him, so he clenches up his arse around Robb, and looks back over his shoulder. Very plainly he says, with the hint of sarcasm that he knows drives Robb mad, "Go on then, _m'lord_ , if you please."

Robb's face flushes and he wreches Theon's hand harder beneath his own. Jon laughs, "Oh, you've gone and done it now, haven't you?" He tangles his fingers in Theon's hair and says, "Get that mouth back where it belongs, Greyjoy," and Theon has to bite back a smirk as he takes him back in his mouth. For a long while there is silence, naught but the sounds of the hot smack of skin on skin, the breathless pants of the two brothers coming faster, in tandem now. Theon has the power here; Jon may be fucking his face while Robb's balls are slapping against his arse in a frenzied rhythm of _almost there almost there almost there_ \- for it is him on all fours, but the two of them coming apart.

"Stark," Jon chokes out, his hips twitching. Theon slurps down his cock, feels it nudge the back of his throat and flex there, welcome and hot. "Stark," he repeats, "Gods, again, do it again." Heat coils in Theon's belly as he takes them both to the hilt, the pace faster, the motions frenzied now. Robb bends over, his nose pressed to Theon's back as he releases his hand so that he might grip his hips and take him in earnest. Teasing done with, Theon braces himself against the onslaught of Jon's hips with his arm, now free but feeling as though it's filled with sand. Robb's rakes his nails down Theon's flank and he says, "Snow, Snow, _Snow_."

Neither says his name, but when he feels Robb shoot hot across his back, and Jon sticky across his lips, it is very nearly close enough.


End file.
